


How Will I Know

by VT44



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BAMF John, Caring Mycroft, Caring Sherlock, Ceremony, Fluff, Homophobia, Injury, Johnlock - Freeform, Loving John, M/M, Marriage, Morning Cuddles, Much crying, One Shot, Parentlock, Upset Sherlock, anniversary dinner, gun shot wound, proposal, slight angst, trips to the park
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-05-31 09:58:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6465865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VT44/pseuds/VT44
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some little drabbles that I've written generally on my phone! </p><p>Ch 1 : At a very special celebration of love John realises how much he loves Sherlock.</p><p>Ch 2: Sherlock experiences homophobia from an unlikely source and John needs to re-affirm Sherlock of his love</p><p>Ch 3: Another special celebration of love, with a little bit of BAMF John to go with it</p><p>Ch 4: A trip to the park with the newest arrivals</p><p>Ch 5: Sherlock is injured - not even on a case!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this entire piece on my phone after listening to Sam Smith - sorry about the grammatical and punctuational errors! 
> 
> Not britpicked, not beta'd and I don't really know that much about UK wedding ceremonies so it's more of a fantasy angle than real life! 
> 
> Enjoy and don't forget to leave kudos or comments.... I may have plans of turning this into a series in the future!

John grinned as he stood at the alter with Sherlock. The celebrant was patiently waiting in front of them, and all guests were seated, murmuring quietly to each other. He felt Sherlock elbow him softly. 

'Where do you suppose they are?' John glanced back down the aisle quickly before responding.   
'It is customary to be late to a wedding sherlock'   
'This late John? ... Maybe I should go and check on them, make sure they haven't eloped or something?' Just in that moment two figures appeared at the end of the make-shift aisle. Both smiling broadly and seeming quite relaxed. They parted ways as they walked down the outside of the positioned chairs. A hush broke over the crowd as the pair met again just in front of the celebrant, who smiled widely and gestured for them to hold each other's hands.   
'Today is a celebration of not only the undeniable love between these two men but also of their commitment to each other, to be faithful to one another, to be present and active in each other's lives and above all else to love one another.' John glanced past the man in front of him and saw Sherlock doing exactly the same thing. Once they finished eyeing each other, smirking and smiling, John looked back to the celebrant.   
'If anyone has reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, please speak now, or forever hold your peace.' The two men at the alter looked around slightly nervously before the celebrant smiled and continued on.  
'John - the rings' John smirked whilst ring two black ring boxes out of his jackets inner pocket.   
'Well we all know why you didn't ask Sherlock to look after them for you!' A ripple of laughter echoed through the audience as John held out the rings.   
'Do you Gregory Edward Lestrade take David Mycroft George Holmes to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?' John couldn't see Greg's face but he could hear the small shake in his voice.   
'I do' Greg took the plain gold band from John's hand and placed it onto Mycroft's ring finger, sliding it down until it was nestled snug at the base.   
'Do you David Mycroft George Holmes take Gregory Edward Lestrade to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?' John could see tears in his eyes as Mycroft leaned forward and took the ring from his hand. He cleared his throat and gave a small chuckle as he slid the ring down Greg's finger.   
'I do' two solitary tears fell, only to be gently wiped away by Greg's free hand. The celebrant gently cleared his throat and the men clasped hands again, grinning up at him.   
'These two men have pledged to spend the rest of their lives encouraging one another, looking after one another, never seeking to change the other, but rather, seeking to help them grow and develop as individuals, and that is what marriage is all about. Congratulations Mycroft and Greg - you may now kiss your husband!' No one was quite sure who moved first but it didn't matter, the wolf whistling and cheering echoed loudly throughout the small reception centre, none louder that Sherlock and John.   
Once the husbands broke their kiss, there was only one further announcement from the celebrant!   
'Let's dance!'

Once the fevered dancing had died down, the slow delightful love songs began. One of John's favourite's songs began to play - How Will I Know sung by Sam Smith. It was sung with such innocence and the audible question in the tone of the song meant that whenever he heard it, John was always reminded of how his relationship with Sherlock had began. So innocent and questioning. After the earlier dancing John was glad for an opportunity to slow dance with Sherlock, he had been waiting for this moment all night, and now that it was just past midnight and creeping ever closer to the early morning hours, John knew it was the perfect time. John's head was resting on sherlock's shoulder with puffs of sherlock's breath tickling his ear. Sherlock inhaled sharply when the chorus of the song began, he knew it was john's favourite. John began to softly sing to Sherlock.

' _How will I know if you really love me; I say a prayer with every heart beat; I fall in love whenever we meet; I'm asking you what you know about these things'_

'I love you John.' Sherlock whispered in his ear.   
'I love you too Sherlock. I always knew I loved you, I've known since I shot that cabbie.' John felt Sherlock's hand tighten momentarily on his waist. John continued as they slowly circled around the dance floor.   
'I don't think I realised till tonight how MUCH I love you. How my world would not be right if you weren't in it; how my life would still be so lonely and how, because of that I may not have even still been here by now if I'd never met you' Sherlock moved his head slightly and gently kissed John's forehead. John sighed, taking in the warmth of sherlock's body, of all the points where they were making contact, their hands, his chin, sherlock's shoulder, their chests, their lower backs and every now and then their legs. John stopped them circling and pulled away from sherlock, who looked at him with a puzzled expression. John placed both hands on Sherlocks's face and softly kissed his slightly parted lips.   
'I love you. More than anything else in this world, more than I thought I was capable of loving anyone, and I know I want to be with you for the rest of our lives' John looked directly in sherlock's eyes.   
'Sherlock, will you do the honour of marrying me?' John watched as realisation dawned on sherlock's face, the flash of emotion so raw and exposed. Surprise, excitement, relief, worry, shock and finally happiness.   
'John' Sherlock breathed, placing his hands identically on johns face and beginning to pepper his face with kisses - his left cheek, his right, the top of his nose, his forehead, his chin and finally his mouth.  
'John' Sherlock said a bit louder this time, kissing down his neck, his hands roaming down johns body, starting on his shoulders, down his upper back, his lower back, his arse, and then around and back up his stomach, his chest and back to his face. Sherlock held his head still and looked straight into his eyes.   
'Yes John. Of course John. I will marry you, John Hamish Watson!'


	2. Heartless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well here is another little chapter to add to this first little story. This one came to me in the shower funnily enough. So please enjoy. 
> 
> in relation to my other stories... I sincerely apologise for the delay. It has been a difficult few weeks with not much chance for writing. Almost 2 weeks ago I have to make a very sudden trip back home to Melbourne due to the passing of my grandpa, and am only just now on my way back to London. Currently I am sitting at Singapore airport and have just under 6 1/2 hours till my flight! 
> 
> So some writing shall definitely ensue and hopefully I shall have another chapter of my multi-chapter stories written before I leave Singapore or before I get back to London and then it shall be updates galore!! 
> 
> thank you readers and please Kudo/ comment if you are enjoying this little story, or any of them really :) 
> 
> hugs and love to you all!

The almost scalding hot water cascaded down Sherlock's face and through his hair, mixing with the silent tears that were rolling uninterrupted down his cheeks. He didn't hear the front door open and John's heavy tread on the carpet, indicating he was ladened down with many bags full of this week’s shopping, and maybe even a special gift for Sherlock, nor did he hear John calling his name. He was caught up in remembering the horrible occurrence that had happened earlier that day at Scotland Yard.   


_‘It is quite clear from the blood splatter pattern that the murderer…’_  
_'So which one of you will wear the dress?' Donovan's sharp sneering voice pierced through his stream of deductions.  
'I.....sorry what?'  
'Donovan' the warning in Lestrade's tone should have been enough but Donovan continued.   
'Well come on Sherlock, one of you must be the woman in the relationship and I'd say it was you. Will he carry you over the threshold like a blushing bride?' Sherlock felt his cheeks heating up at Donovan's words but had nothing to say. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Anderson's dull tone joined in with a sharp laugh.   
'Ha! I'll bet that you begged him to propose didn't you? What did you have to bribe him with to make him say yes? Surely he wouldn't just want money? And he's too much of a man to have said yes to sex, so what was it?'   
_  
_Sherlock barely heard Lestrade's angry cry of 'that's enough' before he fled down the fire escape, trying to quell that sobs that's threatened to escape and overwhelm him before he'd reached the relative safety of a cab._  
  
Sherlock was startled out of his memories by a loud rap on the bathroom door.   
'Sherlock are you alright in there? I've been calling out for the past 10 minutes.'   
'John...' His voice cracked before he could continue as he drew in another shuddering breath. He braced his hands on the shower wall, as John entered the bathroom. Sherlock turned towards the back of the shower as John pulled aside the shower curtain.   
'What's wrong butterfly?' Sherlock shook his head, tried to gulp back another sob, but ended up spluttering and having to pull in a number of large lung fulls of air to prevent himself chocking. In that time John undressed and stepped into the shower behind him, circling his arms around Sherlock’s waist and pulling him back into the shower spray. Not wasting any time, Sherlock turned in John’s arms, proceeding to wrap his own arms around John’s shoulders and sobbing loudly into his hair. John squeezed him tighter, moving one hand up to run through his soaked hair, albeit with a little difficulty, and began to murmur in his ear.

‘Sssshhh love, whatever it is, everything is ok… your fine… I’m fine… we are fine… I’m here and I love you’ Sherlock sobbed until he had no tears left in his eyes and his body felt weak, legs shaky and the beginnings of a spectacular migraine beginning. Sherlock sighed and withdrew his arms from around John, who simultaneously released his waist. They stared at each other for a moment before John leaned up and gently brushed his lips against Sherlock’s. His hands found their way to Sherlock’s shoulders and he slowly pushed down on them, until Sherlock was sitting on the edge of the bath. Sherlock gave one final sniff and exhale.

‘John I’m...’ John cut him off before he got any further.

‘No Sherlock, you don’t need to say anything right now. Definitely no apologies, which I know was on the tip of your tongue. I want you to sit there while I pamper you and then we are going to snuggle, either on the couch or in bed, and if, and I mean only IF you want to you can tell me what’s happened,’ John grabbed Sherlock’s shampoo and drizzled it over his curls, before beginning to gently massage his head.

‘What did I ever do to deserve you?’ Sherlock whispered, leaning his forehead against John’s chest, as John’s fingers worked their magic at the base of his skull.

 

A quick rinse and two conditions later, Sherlock was sat on the lid of the toilet wearing chequered pyjamas bottoms and a grey t-shirt of John’s that positively swamped him, whilst John’s delicately brushed through his curls. He was dressed in his pyjamas shorts and one of his army undershirts, the letters W A T S O N written across the back in white.  

The shrill sound of the phone sounded throughout the flat cutting into the comfortable silence. The answering machine picked up the message almost immediately.

‘Whatever it is Lestrade it better be over a seven or I’m not coming’

‘And if your name isn’t Lestrade, leave your message and number after the beep and we shall endeavour to get back to you as soon as possible… but we are definitely out on a case, so don’t expect call back soon’ the beep sounded and a very sombre sounding Lestrade began speaking, causing Sherlock to inhale on his next breath a little bit sharper than he meant to. John stopped brushing through Sherlock’s curls to listen to the message.

‘Hey Sherlock, it’s Lestrade… look I’m really sorry about what Donovan and Anderson said earlier. I’ve had words with them both, and told them their comments were completely out of line. They are both on their final warning now. They won’t be any trouble when you come in next. If you get a chance tomorrow, come back in and we’ll wrap the case. If you… ah… if you need anything…um… give me a call… hi to you too John.’ The line clicked dead and John resumed brushing through Sherlock’s curls. The remained in silence for another couple of minutes until John finally placed the hairbrush back in its place on the sink. With John’s back turned Sherlock quietly asked the question that had been plaguing him since Anderson’s comments.

 

‘You… you didn’t propose to me… out of… pity did you?’ Sherlock questioned, bowing his head, his cheeks heating up once again. John smooth fingers slid over the back of his hands and grasped them tightly. He gave them a light squeeze. Sherlock didn’t look up, instead taking a shuddering breath, blinking back that tears that threatened to fall again. Another squeeze of his fingers and

‘Sherlock look at me.’ Sherlock looked up, eyes sweeping over John’s crouched form before coming to rest on John’s face.

‘Do you see pity in these eyes?’ Sherlock stared for another moment before shaking his head.

‘What do you see?’ The corners of Sherlock’s mouth turned up slightly at this question, and he blushed whilst John lifted his hand up, giving each knuckle a quick kiss.

‘Admiration… and… love’ John pressed a somewhat harder kiss to Sherlock’s lips before gently swiping his tongue along Sherlock’s lower lip. He pulled back slowly and rested his forehead against Sherlock’s.

‘I don’t ever need to know what Donovan and Anderson said today Sherlock, but never, ever doubt even for one moment that I do not love you. Don’t ever let anyone tell you differently. And my precious butterfly be safe in the knowledge that I love you for you exactly the way you are and I don’t need or want you to change… EVER.’ Sherlock slowly nodded and let himself be pulled to his feet by John, who embraced him in a tight, warm uniquely John hug. Pulling away John grabbed his hand.

‘Come on Butterfly, let’s go snuggle on the couch. I’ll even let you choose the take-out we have AND which Doctor Who episode to watch.’ Sherlock let himself be dragged into the living room, smiling to himself.

John Watson sure was a very special man, and Sherlock was never going to let him go.

 


	3. Dear Darling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am actually really enjoying writing little snippets of these two in this setting so here.. have have another chapter!
> 
> I have also started on a chapter to go after this one! Hopefully it won't take me too long :) 
> 
> Comments and Kudos most welcomed and loved. I can't believe all the kudos this little story already has, so big big thank you's from the bottom of my heart!!

His arm snaked along Sherlock’s shoulders until it came to rest on the back of his neck. He gave it a gentle squeeze, placing a kiss into those black curls. Sherlock snuffled and tried to bury his head further into John’s chest.

 

‘You know technically it’s bad luck to see your husband on the day of the wedding’ he felt the smirk on his skin before Sherlock spoke.

‘Meaningless social convention John. Besides could you really have slept alone last night and not seen me till this afternoon?’ John pondered for a moment before pulling Sherlock’s face from his chest and staring down into his almost completely grey pupils.

‘I’m going to have a hard enough time as it is letting you go with Greg in a few hours’ John huffed before leaning down to give Sherlock a gentle good morning kiss. Sherlock reciprocated before laying back down onto John’s chest.

‘Can we snuggle for a big longer?’ Sherlock made a show of puling himself tighter to John’s body and placing a kiss on his care chest. John hummed in agreement, his arm making its way to rest on Sherlock’s shoulder. He drew lazy circles on the outline of the sharp bones protruding against his fingers. The puffs of air against his chest evened out and John smiled as Sherlock slipped back to sleep.

 

John thought back to those terrible days after Sherlock’s altercation with Donovan and Anderson. He had simply lain on the couch for two days straight, and nothing John said or did would move him. He wasn’t even sleeping, he just lay in the same position, eyes glazed, arms firmly holding his dressing gown closed, mouth spread in a thin line. John tried to get him to interact with tea, his favourite biscuits, crap telly and even some Doctor Who, but still Sherlock lay staring into the distance. John made sure he knew he was still there, casually brushing his arm as he passed the couch, placing a number of kisses on his forehead throughout the day, when he went to have tea with Mrs. Hudson, when he went down the street, when he went to bed and each time he returned. He whispered ‘I love you’ and other endearments every time he passed him too.

 

Only when John had returned on the morning of the third day after being away for a few hours, huffing up the stairs more than usual and nursing a bruised, bloody and slightly battered hand did Sherlock move. He had gracefully stepped up from the couch, pushed John down onto it and disappeared into the kitchen. John sat, waiting to see what Sherlock did.  He returned moments later with a tea towel in his hands, wrapped around, what John could only imagine was the bag of frozen peas kept in the freezer. Sherlock sat next to him, lightly taking his hand and gently wrapping the tea towel around it. John winced slightly, but placed his other hand over Sherlock’s that was holding onto the towel. Sherlock pulled John into his body with his free arm and placed a kiss on his head. They sat in silence for a long while, John listening to the thump of Sherlock’s heart, dee dum, dee dum, dee dum.

‘What did you do John? Sherlock breathed into his neck, voice barely above a whisper. John shifted back slightly and stared up into Sherlock’s eyes.

‘Defended our honour my beautiful butterfly’ John lifted his hand and cupped Sherlock’s face gently. Sherlock flinched away slightly and then giggled.

‘Your fingers are cold!’ he complained, and John couldn’t help but laugh, before leaning up and giving Sherlock a hearty kiss. From that moment on Sherlock was back to his old self, excited at the new cases that were coming across their email, except for the boring ones of course.

 

John never did tell Sherlock exactly what happened, and Sherlock never asked. But John HAD gone down to Scotland Yard and had confronted Donovan and Anderson, gave them a verbal stripping down along the lines of ‘If you ever treat Sherlock the way you did, you will have me to deal with’ and ‘If I ever see you speaking to him in a non-professional manner or even utter a word that is not case related in his direction…’ and then promptly put his fist through the wall next to Anderson’s head. He had stalked to Lestrade’s office, told him there was now a hole in the office wall, and that Mycroft would take care of it, and then stalked out of the building and without hesitation got into the black car that was waiting for him. He had received a text within moments.

 

_It’s all taken care of – MH_

 

********************************************************************************

John couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face as soon as he stood before the celebrant, Sherlock’s fingers grasped tightly in his own. Sherlock squeezed his fingers and he turned towards him, noting the silver band held in between his thumb and forefinger. He gently took John’s left hand and slipped the ring halfway down, before looking up into his eyes.

 

‘John, I don’t know what I ever did in my life to deserve you. I am a highly unpleasant person, I am more often than not rude and ignorant and I am definitely an obnoxious arsehole at the best of times. But know one thing John, you complete me. You make me a better person. When I am with you the buzzing stops and I feel whole. I feel completely at peace. I didn’t know I could love anyone as much as I love you. I want to be with you for the rest of our lives, I want to grow old with you, still solving crimes and complaining about your typing and your blog’ Sherlock’s breath hitched momentarily before he continued. John smiled up at him, and gave a small nod, encouraging him to continue even as he knew that when it came time for him to say his own vows it was definitely going to open the flood gates.

‘You… you are my everything John Hamish Watson, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you,’ Sherlock slid the ring to the base of John’s fingers and then gave it a gentle kiss. John hiccupped slightly and the first tear rolled down his cheek as Mike handed him the gold band that was for Sherlock’s finger. He slid the ring halfway down the finger, taking a deep breath as another tear slowly rolled down his cheek. He gave a small laugh.

‘Sherlock, I love you. Those words never seem to be enough to express how I feel about you. I don’t just love you, I adore you, I live to be with you, I need you to simply be able to breath. Without you, life was not worth living, and now every day is perfect knowing that I get to wake up with you every morning, and go to bed with you every night. It doesn’t matter to me if we spend the day in the flat or off chasing down London’s latest ‘idiot’. I love it all because I am with you.’ John took a deep breath and smiled at Sherlock.

‘I never want to be without you in my life ever again William Sherlock Scott Holmes. I know, every day for the rest of my life will be perfect because I am with you.’ John slid the ring to the base of Sherlock’s finger and proceeded to copy him, kissing the ring delicately. They both turned back to the celebrant.

‘John and Sherlock, have professed their love for one another in front of all of us here today, and their dedication to spending the rest of their lives with each other. We wish you an absolutely happy union from today, and while there are not secrets as to the fact there will be tough times ahead, you will face them all together.’ The celebrant, closed his order of ceremony book and smiled at them.

‘You may now kiss your husband’ Sherlock pulled John closed and whispered into his lips before he kissed him.

‘Hello my husband.’


	4. Chapter 4

The day that Nicholas and Charlotte came into their lives was the second happiest day of his life. The tears threatened to spill over for a many number of hours after they were born. Sherlock gently cradled a sleeping Charlotte against his chest as he sat in the hospital room, next to the bed that their surrogate, Naomi, was currently sleeping in. Charlotte had been born first at 2.34am with Nicholas coming approximately 5 minutes later being born at 2.39am. Sherlock was sure Charlotte would hold the ‘big sister’ status over Nicholas for the rest of their lives.

 

John was on the other side of the bed cradling a wide-eyed Nicholas who kept reaching up towards John’s face. Sherlock imprinted in his memory the look on John’s face as he held his son. Sherlock looked down in Charlotte’s face and gently traced a finger over her tiny eyebrows, down her tiny cheeks and over her tiny nose. How they had managed to produced two perfect beautiful children he would never know. When he next looked up John was looking right at him, a single tear trailing down his cheek. Sherlock carefully got up and walked around to the other side of the bed, and pulled up a chair next to John. He shifted Charlotte into the crook of one arm, and gently wiped away John’s tear before kissing his strongly and soundly.

‘We did it Sherlock.’ John huffed slightly, trying to contain his overwhelming emotion so as not to wake Naomi (who was exhausted after a 15-hour labour) nor Charlotte, who gave a little snuffle but continued to sleep in Sherlock’s arm.

‘We did indeed John, we did indeed.’

 ****************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

Seeing as it was a glorious summers day, with not a cloud in the sky and beautiful sunshine, an afternoon out at Hyde Park was on the cards and John had decided it would be something nice to do, plus he had invited Naomi along to join in. John had even packed a picnic lunch to take with them. On the tube they each took one stroller, and it was just Sherlock's luck that while Nicholas decided it would be a great time for a nap, Charlotte decided she didn't want to be in her stroller any longer, she wanted to get out, she wanted to be free to go and explore the carriage as she saw fit. And that was how Sherlock found himself in his current situation. Big fat tears rolled down her cheeks, her small fingers periodically curling into small fists banging against her thighs, her small body straining against the buckles and clasps keeping her safely in the stroller. She tried to get the clasps undone with her stubby fingers before a chorus of 'Ooooooo, aaahhhh, ah, ah, eeeuuuuu' on repeat was heard throughout the carriage. John grinned at him gently rocking Nicholas's stroller, a content lip smacking sound coming from the little boy as he sucked on his dummy, dead to the world. Sherlock glared at him before bending down in front of Charlotte, sweeping the tears from her cheeks and holding out his hand for her. She grasped tightly to his index finger and ring finger and gave two experimental pulls, looking up wide eyed at Sherlock when his fingers stayed firmly in place.    
'Da, da' she cooed distressed, pulling a little harder on his fingers.  
'Now Charlotte, you know you cannot get out of your stroller on the tube. We would lose you in an instant I am sure. And it's father my darling girl, not Da da. Fa-ther'. The quizzical look Charlotte gave him as her tears stopped made him smile, and before long she was smiling too.  
'Da da da da da da' she squealed in quick succession.  
'Give it a rest Sherlock, she'll get it eventually, remember she is only 18 months' John smirked, Sherlock knew he thought that Charlotte was calling for him, as they had decided John would be Dad and Sherlock either Father or Papa. Sherlock tried to stand to correct John, that the only reason Charlotte was currently saying da was because it was one of the easier words children were able to form when they were learning how to speak, but Charlotte was having none of that. She let out a howl, as Sherlock made the slightest move away from her. He bent back down to her, and she showed her appreciation with a gap-toothed smile and a giggle. Sherlock gently stroked her short, tight black curls and murmured at her.

‘You’re just like your dad you know that. Consistently demanding my attention’

‘Oi!’ came a shout from John, who had knelt down next to Sherlock, and was gently bracing himself with a hand between Sherlock’s shoulder blades. Sherlock turned him head for a quick kiss before turning back to Charlotte.

‘But I wouldn’t have it any other way’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to write another little chapter after this, not sure how long it will take though, don't hold your breathe for it to come quickly though! 
> 
> This chapter idea came to me when I was on the tube, and there was an adorable child just a little down the carriage, crying their lungs outs! 
> 
> Kudos and Comments much appreciated and loved forever!


	5. Dear Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things somehow just got a bit angstier! So now I have had to extend the number of chapter this is going to be!   
> I mean I can't just leave it here can I?!
> 
> Kudos and Comments loved, appreciated and definitely help me with writing these chapters faster!

'J'hn' Sherlock groaned before he was even fully conscious and aware of his surroundings. Opening, what felt like, his lead lined eyes seemed an impossible task. His mind was immensely muddy and murky and he was struggling to find a way out. There was a dull throbbing emanating from around his left knee cap (how had that happened?) but all Sherlock could think about was his husband.

  
'J'hn' he tried again but his tongue was too large and felt like sandpaper in his mouth. His fingers unconsciously moved and he felt a sharp sting in the back of his hand, followed by a calming feeling engulfing his fingers. The calming feeling that only came with the coarse skin of one man’s hands.   
'Hello sleepy head' John's voice floated through his mind. He tried to reply but all he managed to do was moan weakly. His eyes still not opening as he wanted them too.   
'Ssssshhhhh, darling just relax. You're fine. The operation went well. I'll get you some water.' Sherlock felt a straw pushing at his lips, and greedily began to suck. All too quickly the straw was taken away, much to Sherlock's distaste.

  
'John' the name came out fluently and perfect. Sherlock gave a small smile at that fact, he was still himself, even if incapacitated slightly. Sherlock felt the rough material of a cool face washer being wiped around his chin and up the left side of his face, the tube for the nasal oxygen prongs momentarily moved. Sherlock sighed as the process was repeated on the right side of his face. The face washer was then wiped delicately over both eyes before disappearing. Sherlock cracked his open against the harsh light, but a large shadow was cast over him a moment later as John's face came into view adorned with the familiar smile.

  
'Hello beautiful' Sherlock's curls were brushed off his forehead by gentle fingers, to be followed by a brush of lips.   
'Nick.... Lotte?' Fingers continued to card through his curls.   
'They are fine, Lestrade and Mycroft are looking after them. I'll bring them in to visit soon ok'  
'Mmmmmm good… John… It hurts' he mumbled, remembering the pain in his knee.   
'I’ll get the nurse to give you something for that my darling. For now, just go back to sleep.' The fingers carding through his hair felt so nice, and distracted him momentarily from the pain. Before he knew it, he was drifting off again.   
'Love you.... My john'   
  
**********************************  
  
John sighed, sitting back down in the hard white plastic chair next to Sherlock's bed in the recovery unit. Being a doctor at Bart's had to have some advantages. John still couldn't believe he was sitting in recovery with Sherlock.

 

A mere 6 hours earlier they had been enjoying dinner at Angelo's to celebrate their anniversary. Greg and Mycroft had even offered to look after the kids so they could have a night to themselves.   
Their meal had been fantastic and Angelo even insisted, after they had both eaten dessert, that they take home extras for Nicholas and Charlotte. Sherlock had been carrying the plastic carry bag with their food, whilst his other hand was wrapped firmly around John's as they had walked home. Sherlock had lent down and kissed the top of his head before whispering in his ear

‘5 years John. How have you put up with me for 5 years?’ John chuckled and squeezed his hand, before Sherlock straightened and they continue their stroll home.

 

John closed his eyes, remembering the awful moment like a non-stop film in his head.

  
A shout had come from behind them.  
'Are you Sherlock Holmes?' Sherlock had turned, half a step back when the gun had been fired, straight into his left knee. Sherlock had fallen instantly, nearly pulling John with him, but before he had even hit the ground John had fired a shot back, the man had fallen almost immediately clutching at his abdomen. The gunman’s screams filled the night whilst Sherlock lay dazed on the ground. John had crouched beside him, playing a hand on his chest as he withered on the ground, his arms clutching at his left leg, small sharp pained breathes escaping between the small gap between his teeth.

‘Sherlock, relax.’ It was only then that Sherlock had looked up at him, his left hand had reached up and grasped John’s wrist, leaving a trail of blood and coating John’s exposed skin in bloody finger outlines.

‘John! John!’ Sherlock gritted his teeth and moaned. John whipped off his scarf and told Sherlock to hold tightly to his hand,

‘This is going to hurt’ He scrunched up his scarf and pressed it hard on the wound. Sherlock had flinched and cried out, gripping tightly to John’s hand. John struggled to extract his hand from Sherlock’s grip, instead moving his hand to grasp the wrist that was pressing on the scarf. He fumbled for his phone, speed dialled 3 and placed his phone on speaker.

‘John… what’s wrong?’   
'Lestrade! Sherlock's been shot. Bring and ambulance and get here now!’ (John knew he had a conversation with Lestrade there on the side of the road, but for the life of him he really couldn’t remember much of what he’d said.) Sherlock had begun mumbling slightly incoherently, his eyes going glassy.

‘Fuck Sherlock, stay with me ok. Stay with me!’ A combination of the pain and blood loss, John presumed, meant that Sherlock had succumbed to unconsciousness moments later. John had cursed to high heavens and increased the pressure he applied, as Sherlock’s hand fell onto the pavement.

 

John sighed, gently rubbing circles on the back of Sherlock’s hand, finding the movement relaxing to himself. Lestrade had come, bringing Donovan with him, as well as an ambulance.

‘Don’t tell Nick and Lotte just yet ok. I’ll speak to them later.’ John had said, climbing into the back of the ambulance after his unconscious husband.

 

He rang them whilst Sherlock was in surgery. Mycroft had answered his mobile on first ring.

‘John, how is my brother?’

‘Where are Nick and Lotte?’ John heard Mycroft sigh.

‘Ana is with them in the play room’ Ana was Mycroft and Greg’s cook, cleaner and all round doer of any activity asked of her, including helping looking after Nicholas and Charlotte when needed.

‘Right… ok…. Sherlock’s doing alright. He’s lost quite a bit of blood, and the bullet seems to have been lodged in his leg. He’s in surgery right now. They should be finished soon. They expect a full recovery, with some rehab. Can I speak to the kids now?’ John heard Mycroft moving through the house, presumably from his study to the play room. He heard Mycroft calling the children to come and sit with him on the couch and then placed the phone on speaker.

 

‘Say hello children’

‘Daddy!’ the unison cry came up before they both tried to talk at once.

‘Hey my darlings. Listen I’ve got something serious to tell you about Papa’ the children were both quiet for a moment before Charlotte’s little voice pipped up

‘Has Papa hurt himself again daddy?’ there was a little quiver at the end of her voice and John could just imagine her face. He sucked in a deep breath before continuing.

‘Yes princess. Papa has hurt himself. He’s bumped his leg very badly and is in hospital,’ John heard a small gasp coming from Nicholas before he heard both his children begin to cry.

‘Ssssshhhhh it’s going to be ok. Papa is going to get better. He’s just going to have to stay in hospital for a while.’

‘Daddy, can we see him?’ Nicholas managed to get the question out before John heard a big sniff from him.

‘Yes champ, you can come and see him tomorrow after you’ve had a sleep tonight.’

‘No daddy! Come now!’ the cry had come in unison. John had gritted his teeth and tried to keep his voice level as the tears threatened to fall.

‘I can’t come now my darlings, Papa needs me. Uncle Mycroft and Ana will look after you ok, and I’ll see you tomorrow. You be good for me alright? I love you.’ John heard the phone come off speaker and Mycroft smooth voice came onto the phone.

‘Ana and I will look after them, don’t worry John. You just be with Sherlock. Keep my informed.’

 

It was in that moment after he hung up the phone that John let the tears he had been holding in, out with an anguished cry.


End file.
